Hi all, here's the beginning of something I've been throwing together for the last week or so, but playing around with in my head for a while. It's a little look at one possible near future federation and how they might lose their philosophical way and just how tragically wrong that might all go. It might been seen as allegorical of 20th/21st century events, it might not. Obviously very much a work in progress and only partially completed but would just like a feel for whether it's to people's tastes so far.
1)
Bell's world was Earthlike, temperate with a blue-green ocean surface that spoke of careful climate control. Through the viewport X could almost imagine herself being home, the world she had grown up yet seen so little since the start of her career. Rather than any sense of reassurance, however, all she felt was a growing unease. It was a familiar unease, it had sat in her gut since joining the academy and finding the stories she had heard simply did not match what she was being taught.
She had learnt to live with it to some extent, to tell herself that others must have their doubts, that maybe she had been unrealistic in idealising Starfleet. Most of the time at least. But now the peaceful surface and their steady, gentle approach gave the lie to the frantic communications she was sure must currently be being exchanged. Or perhaps they weren't. Perhaps the captain was simply ignoring the frantic, confused and increasingly desperate monologue flowing up from the surface.
Down here below decks in the Science Station she had no way of knowing for sure and frankly had no desire to change that situation. For once her lowly status and it's incumbent ignorance acted as a shield from her insecurities rather than a barrier to her dreams.
A voice interrupted her reverie, rather than jumping she felt her shoulders drop just a little lower as she realised it come through the shipboard comm.
"Science station, what can you give us?"
She turned to the LCARS interface, scanning the models she had produced for the process, sifting through those scenarios which would spill over too soon. This was to be an exercise in carefully planned moderation, too fast and the impact would be lost, too slow and the chance would be lost. She hadn't needed to be at the political meeting to know the captain wanted to handle this himself before other fleet assets arrived. His was a local patrol vessel, the Vindicator class frigate "Winchester", capable in the limited role for which she was intended but there was no secret that he wanted greater things.
Starfleet doctrine dictated that as CO of the first vessel on scene he had situational command until a more tactically able vessel arrived. There was little chance he would want credit for this mission to go to the captain of another ship arriving after the fact so his window would be limited. The impatience in his voice was palpable and she almost cringed at the focus that was suddenly on her.
"There are at least five viable scenarios sir, uploading to the cloud now."
"Bridge out" - and with that the link was cut. She knew that by leaving it to this stage she had made an error in the captains eyes, another unofficial mark against her, another lowering of the bar where his respect was concerned. Her very role commanded little respect on the ship, a tactical vessel whose crew saw little use for a science officer and knew that her being posted there reflected badly on her career path.
That lack of respect was even built into the ship. On one of the older vessels, especially the Explorer types she would have full access to the ships operations from her station, but here that would have been seen as potentially taking up processing capacity from more important systems and, frankly, implying she actually needed to know any more than what she was told.
She could, however, continue to look out of the view port, the cool blue even relaxing her to some extent, although the sweat she could feel throughout her uniform, the insistence that her gut would fail her, the clawing of her hands and twitching of her feet all bore witness to her doubts. She tried to convince herself that this was some quality she displayed, some moral objection expressing itself physically, but she knew otherwise. It was performance anxiety clamouring to shout down the terror of explaining her actions when some authority other than the captain questioned them.
"I was following orders, I had no idea he would actually do it, I thought he would back down...it was uninhabited, an terraforming experiment, wasn't it?"
None of it would hold up
"I knew...."
She realised that for at least a few minutes the ambient colour of the room had taken on an ambient orange glow, familiar in hue but steadier and more constant than she had ever seen it before. It almost seemed reassuring that there was nothing left for her to do, no decisions to make. It was out of her hands.
The colony world served as home to several thousand federation citizens, demonised in the official press for their adamant refusal to support the ongoing militarisation in the sector. They had voted to veto Starfleet vessels using their support facilities, forcing the federation council to offer them an ultimatum. Starfleet had been tasked with a show of force, to deliver a message.
That message was death.
2)
"This way sir" - the diplomatic officer, he couldn't remember her name gently took his arm and led him from the shuttle into the wall of noise which engulfed him. Glaring lights shone sporadically into his eyes, eclipsing the faces which they adorned. He flinched back involuntarily, instinct causing him to raise his arm as though threatened.
"Admiral-"
"Can you comment on the circumstance-"
"Admiral could you take a moment to comment on-"
"Please allow the admiral space"
Her efforts seemed futile at first, drowned in the hubbub generated by his presence. Throughout his career he had found himself sometimes deeply involved in the highest profile events of the day, but a personal relationship with the press was something he had shunned wherever possible. Typically insulated by his duties and station he had been allowed to operate in relative peace, leaving the public consequences of events to be handled by others. In this case it had been made clear that his very presence was in itself a show of the seriousness of circumstances, that he had to be seen. He wasn't in control anymore and he found himself floundering in a shockingly unfamiliar environment.
"Admiral-"
"Is this a cover up Admiral?"
That one voice caught his attention, made him wonder for a moment if his doubts had some substance.
"Who said that?" he demanded, only to feel the gentle pressure on his arm intensify slightly. The young lady began to usher him through the throng who moved aside reluctantly.
He realised that two large figures were flanking them now, herding them through safely. The uniforms were different from those he was familiar with but it was clear they were security, if not Starfleet then some other concern. He noticed the batons swinging from the hip of one and to him that spoke volumes. Vastly inferior to a phaser and of far less practical use in subduing a threat, the simple brute physicality of it was intimidating in a way no technological marvel could match. It spoke of a visceral, primitive form of authority and a certain mindset. Not Starfleet then, maybe one of the private contractors he had heard of.
He was led away from the shuttlebay and into a corridor which it appears was open to base personnel only. The diplomatic officer turned to him, her concern seeming genuine.
"Are you ok sir, we should have brought you in more discretely"
"I'm fine young lady, only my dignity felt in any danger" He smiled to reassure her, no need to let her know his heart was beating a little faster, his defences up as they were so easily these days. She looked unconvinced but smiled back and turned to walk with him down the corridor. I probably look near death's door, he thought, still, must play the part. "With all due respect, my quarters can wait"
She looked a little unsure "Of course sir, but you should be aware that the initial hearings don't begin until tomorrow, you have plenty of time to refresh yourself and get to know the base"
"Hardly a new experience for me" he flinched, that had been harsh, curt in fact and her face registered the fact for the briefest flash. He tried to soften the blow "Starbases haven't suddenly become wondrously interesting since my day have they?"
To her credit she rallied well, "Doubtless not, but the civilian quarters here do boast some well recommended restaurants, I believe you have a fondness for vintage scotch? Not always synthol I might add"
Once he would have pondered whether she were flirting just a little, but not any more. For all of her professionalism he knew that her presence here was utilitarian. Besides which, despite his celebrity it had been many years since he had been shown attention as a man and not a rank. In the 24th century being sexually active well into one's centenarian years was far from uncommon but he felt no inclination to embarrass himself with what he saw in others as desperation, a denial of the simple biological reality of age.
However he was determined to enter this distasteful business on his own terms, to show from the first point of contact that he was still well able to take the initiative and have others responding to him taking the direction. He had hardly spent his career as a passive observer awaiting orders and saw no reason to begin now.
"My apologies, what was your name again, Luietenant?"
"Jefferies sir" she smiled gently, as though some assumption she had made about him had just been confirmed. "Christine Jefferies"
"Let me offer you a little advice Miss Jefferies, from an old man who has spent his life learning from his mistakes." He paused a moment, watched as she politely waited, humoured him, "If you want to move forward in Starfleet, to make a difference, don't just play the game. An officer, a captain, makes his own destiny, her own destiny. You can be promoted for following orders to the letter, find yourself manoeuvred wherever you are wanted and retire at a respectable rank, but you will never have mattered, never have defined why you are here on your own terms. The best officers act according to their conscience first, orders second and Starfleet needs that now more than ever. I'm not sure exactly why I've been summoned here and frankly I'm beginning to suspect that someone made that decision based more on public perception than any quality I may possess. If so I fully intend to leave this starbase this evening, make full use of my retired status and return to productively tending my garden rather than submit myself to a shambolic farce. I cannot make that assessment sat in my quarters, nor do I intend to wait patiently until someone decides I am needed on their terms to dance like a puppet on a string."
A pause, she was clearly gathering herself and considering a tactful reply. He allowed one eyebrow to raise slightly to indicate clearly his patience was not infinite. Clearly she came to a decision.
"Admiral Styles said you may feel that way sir, that you wouldn't take kindly to unnecessary delay, or to feeling out of control"
"Well I suggest that this admiral of yours and I ought to discuss the matter personally, don't you? If nothing else it will save you the tedium of dealing with an irritable, impatient old man's demands."
She laughed just a little, the tension draining out of the air exactly as he had intended "Very well sir, the Admiral is giving a briefing to the station staff as we speak, I can show you to her office directly. I should warn you though, she can be a little, frosty when she feels challenged"
"I promise to be the prefect gentleman, after you Miss Jefferies"
3)
The attack on Bells world was in many ways paradoxical. Theoretically unsanctioned, many historians place the blame squarely on the shoulders of a young upstart captain and his federal officer, by turns over eager, possibly sociopathic and thoroughly lacking in an y moral perspective in how they interpreted their mandate. There are, of course, always other ways of looking at things.
The world itself had never been a major player in the Federation's political or military set up. Colonised approximately a century earlier she had wavered on the fringe of separation from the Federation proper for some time. The colonists had found themselves from the get go in a volume far from any strategic or economic assets, away from spacelanes and generally alone in their particular corner of the galactic backyard. This had led, if not to outright neglect, to a distancing between them and their nearest federation neighbours. Naturally such a posting had attracted, as such colonies often do, those with a certain isolationist frame of mind, a tendency towards self sufficiency not generally seen in the citizens of major worlds.
Thus as the decades had passed the small colony, whilst never thriving, had steadily developed on her own terms, building on the infrastructure provided by the initial support teams and trading with anyone who was willing to do so without endeavouring to build any firm relationships, formal or otherwise, with any of her neighbours. They managed to be on good terms with everyone in local space, including the regular Klingon patrol ships which periodically crossed the border either unnoticed or unremarked on, without supporting or siding with any of them. Disputes, whilst rare, had no place on the neutral territory they provided and passing enemies occasionally found themselves face to face in the one place they all considered friendly territory.
By the time she became notable in the history books, the colony numbered a civilian population in the low millions, a small orbital dockyards for trading vessels and the sort of ground based planetary defences required to deter the sort of piracy one might reasonably expect in the relative wilderness of deep space. Even the coming of the Dominion left them largely unnoticed in their placid isolation.
Things began to change for the citizens of our small world when the borders of the Klingon neutral zone shifted in the decades following the Dominion War. The long standing mutual edge extended as both sides sought reasonably to extend their spheres of influence peacefully with an enthusiasm their pre war counterparts could not have risked. Where suspicion had been the order of the day the two powers now supported each other in an exaggerated way, the federation eager to maintain the friendship between the two, the Klingons eager to show the honourable intent they had boasted of in wartime. The theoretical parting of ways between the edges of the two powers shifted to incorporate new systems as they rolled their territories out almost in synchrony, each vying to show how pleased they were to demonstrate good faith, to avoid any sense that they might, just possibly, be looking to do so at the other's expense, or even worse to outflank the other's holdings.
Of course such a situation soured rapidly as the sheer material value of systems along the extending border led to disputes. The "new" federation, suitably militarized to the full extent of their technological capabilities in a way no one could have seriously imagined pre war, began preparations for potential conflict, reinforcing their holdings, building increasingly well armed trading stations, altering patrol routes to swap their more powerful ships into rapid deployment zones and generally rattling their now quite imposing sabre whilst maintaining a superficial pretence of amiability. The Klingons were no fools, despite the reputation they held in some corners of the galaxy, and responded the only way they realistically might be expected to - with outrage. Certain historians have even pointed to the highly visible nature of the federations military build up, the rapidity of their expansion in the sphere of influence and suggest that such a response was exactly the intent, although if that were the case then no one document has ever clearly supported such a policy.
In either case it was against this backdrop that the long ignored colonists of Bell's world, unused to being federation citizens in anything other than name, found themselves being told it was time to do their duty. Their orbital station was to act as a way point for patrolling vessels and home port/repair station for a small squadron, their planetary defences to be upgraded and act as guarding stations for munitions dumps and industrial grade replicators intended to support local fleet assets.
Having spent so long in virtual isolation it is easy in retrospect to see that such an invasion (if such a word isn't too much of a stretch) would be met with resentment, but in another day, another age, such issues as initially arose might well have been dealt with diplomatically. However the war had left it's marks on the federation and, crucially, the agents tasked with it's defence.
The pre war fleet had been composed in large part by scientists, diplomats and warriors taught and inclined to avoid conflict, to value the choices made by other cultures, to celebrate the diversity presented not only by the galaxy at large but by their own citizenry. Time and attrition had taken it's toll, however, leaving the collective command of Starfleet in the hands of many whose fledgling careers had been spent fighting tooth and nail against a bitter xenophobic opponent. They had learnt all too well the lessons of survival and patriotic duty their predecessors had eschewed in favour of balancing one's own needs against those of the greater whole. Starfleet had become the true military many had longed for, fully intent on deterring aggression and enforcing federation policy at home and abroard.
Armed with a fleet which by it's very nature had been designed to focus the federations massive scientific capabilities to destructive ends they began a campaign of consolidation, developing increasingly capable vessels at the expense of scientific or research duties. They mass manufactured patrol ships to monitor their borders, hundreds of small but highly capable strike craft with little to no value outside that remit.
Faced with the overwhelming assumption of their cooperation the local governance if the colony had called for a referendum which, given the scale of the populace and the technological ease of such things, was conducted from campaign to vote within a matter of weeks. The nearest true starbase sent a representative to argue the federation's case but didn't expect much resistance. The whole exercise was to be a formality to rubber stamp authority they hadn't foreseen being questioned. In a sense they got it right, it was just a formality. Almost to a head the population voted against militarisation of the colony beyond that required to ensure their isolation was respected. Likewise they vetoed practical support for any mobilisation. They had prospered on their own terms thus far and saw no reason to disrupt their situation. The federation representative, given a broad remit of theoretical powers, frothed at the mouth and demanded the result be disavowed. He was kindly offered a shuttle to help him rendezvous with his returning transport that little sooner.
Where the federation council of yesteryear would have likely have respected such a decision whilst endeavouring to improve relations the current administration saw fit to see this as a provocation. They had in fact already increasingly emphasised the duty of member worlds to provide resources to the cause and had taken limited action against fringe elements seemingly wavering in their loyalty, garrisoning minor worlds, increasing patrols in low support volumes and generally stretching their fleet for purposes they had never done so before. The sight of a Starfleet vessel entering orbit for many became less a reassurance and more an act of intimidation. Of enforcement.
1)
Bell's world was Earthlike, temperate with a blue-green ocean surface that spoke of careful climate control. Through the viewport X could almost imagine herself being home, the world she had grown up yet seen so little since the start of her career. Rather than any sense of reassurance, however, all she felt was a growing unease. It was a familiar unease, it had sat in her gut since joining the academy and finding the stories she had heard simply did not match what she was being taught.
She had learnt to live with it to some extent, to tell herself that others must have their doubts, that maybe she had been unrealistic in idealising Starfleet. Most of the time at least. But now the peaceful surface and their steady, gentle approach gave the lie to the frantic communications she was sure must currently be being exchanged. Or perhaps they weren't. Perhaps the captain was simply ignoring the frantic, confused and increasingly desperate monologue flowing up from the surface.
Down here below decks in the Science Station she had no way of knowing for sure and frankly had no desire to change that situation. For once her lowly status and it's incumbent ignorance acted as a shield from her insecurities rather than a barrier to her dreams.
A voice interrupted her reverie, rather than jumping she felt her shoulders drop just a little lower as she realised it come through the shipboard comm.
"Science station, what can you give us?"
She turned to the LCARS interface, scanning the models she had produced for the process, sifting through those scenarios which would spill over too soon. This was to be an exercise in carefully planned moderation, too fast and the impact would be lost, too slow and the chance would be lost. She hadn't needed to be at the political meeting to know the captain wanted to handle this himself before other fleet assets arrived. His was a local patrol vessel, the Vindicator class frigate "Winchester", capable in the limited role for which she was intended but there was no secret that he wanted greater things.
Starfleet doctrine dictated that as CO of the first vessel on scene he had situational command until a more tactically able vessel arrived. There was little chance he would want credit for this mission to go to the captain of another ship arriving after the fact so his window would be limited. The impatience in his voice was palpable and she almost cringed at the focus that was suddenly on her.
"There are at least five viable scenarios sir, uploading to the cloud now."
"Bridge out" - and with that the link was cut. She knew that by leaving it to this stage she had made an error in the captains eyes, another unofficial mark against her, another lowering of the bar where his respect was concerned. Her very role commanded little respect on the ship, a tactical vessel whose crew saw little use for a science officer and knew that her being posted there reflected badly on her career path.
That lack of respect was even built into the ship. On one of the older vessels, especially the Explorer types she would have full access to the ships operations from her station, but here that would have been seen as potentially taking up processing capacity from more important systems and, frankly, implying she actually needed to know any more than what she was told.
She could, however, continue to look out of the view port, the cool blue even relaxing her to some extent, although the sweat she could feel throughout her uniform, the insistence that her gut would fail her, the clawing of her hands and twitching of her feet all bore witness to her doubts. She tried to convince herself that this was some quality she displayed, some moral objection expressing itself physically, but she knew otherwise. It was performance anxiety clamouring to shout down the terror of explaining her actions when some authority other than the captain questioned them.
"I was following orders, I had no idea he would actually do it, I thought he would back down...it was uninhabited, an terraforming experiment, wasn't it?"
None of it would hold up
"I knew...."
She realised that for at least a few minutes the ambient colour of the room had taken on an ambient orange glow, familiar in hue but steadier and more constant than she had ever seen it before. It almost seemed reassuring that there was nothing left for her to do, no decisions to make. It was out of her hands.
The colony world served as home to several thousand federation citizens, demonised in the official press for their adamant refusal to support the ongoing militarisation in the sector. They had voted to veto Starfleet vessels using their support facilities, forcing the federation council to offer them an ultimatum. Starfleet had been tasked with a show of force, to deliver a message.
That message was death.
2)
"This way sir" - the diplomatic officer, he couldn't remember her name gently took his arm and led him from the shuttle into the wall of noise which engulfed him. Glaring lights shone sporadically into his eyes, eclipsing the faces which they adorned. He flinched back involuntarily, instinct causing him to raise his arm as though threatened.
"Admiral-"
"Can you comment on the circumstance-"
"Admiral could you take a moment to comment on-"
"Please allow the admiral space"
Her efforts seemed futile at first, drowned in the hubbub generated by his presence. Throughout his career he had found himself sometimes deeply involved in the highest profile events of the day, but a personal relationship with the press was something he had shunned wherever possible. Typically insulated by his duties and station he had been allowed to operate in relative peace, leaving the public consequences of events to be handled by others. In this case it had been made clear that his very presence was in itself a show of the seriousness of circumstances, that he had to be seen. He wasn't in control anymore and he found himself floundering in a shockingly unfamiliar environment.
"Admiral-"
"Is this a cover up Admiral?"
That one voice caught his attention, made him wonder for a moment if his doubts had some substance.
"Who said that?" he demanded, only to feel the gentle pressure on his arm intensify slightly. The young lady began to usher him through the throng who moved aside reluctantly.
He realised that two large figures were flanking them now, herding them through safely. The uniforms were different from those he was familiar with but it was clear they were security, if not Starfleet then some other concern. He noticed the batons swinging from the hip of one and to him that spoke volumes. Vastly inferior to a phaser and of far less practical use in subduing a threat, the simple brute physicality of it was intimidating in a way no technological marvel could match. It spoke of a visceral, primitive form of authority and a certain mindset. Not Starfleet then, maybe one of the private contractors he had heard of.
He was led away from the shuttlebay and into a corridor which it appears was open to base personnel only. The diplomatic officer turned to him, her concern seeming genuine.
"Are you ok sir, we should have brought you in more discretely"
"I'm fine young lady, only my dignity felt in any danger" He smiled to reassure her, no need to let her know his heart was beating a little faster, his defences up as they were so easily these days. She looked unconvinced but smiled back and turned to walk with him down the corridor. I probably look near death's door, he thought, still, must play the part. "With all due respect, my quarters can wait"
She looked a little unsure "Of course sir, but you should be aware that the initial hearings don't begin until tomorrow, you have plenty of time to refresh yourself and get to know the base"
"Hardly a new experience for me" he flinched, that had been harsh, curt in fact and her face registered the fact for the briefest flash. He tried to soften the blow "Starbases haven't suddenly become wondrously interesting since my day have they?"
To her credit she rallied well, "Doubtless not, but the civilian quarters here do boast some well recommended restaurants, I believe you have a fondness for vintage scotch? Not always synthol I might add"
Once he would have pondered whether she were flirting just a little, but not any more. For all of her professionalism he knew that her presence here was utilitarian. Besides which, despite his celebrity it had been many years since he had been shown attention as a man and not a rank. In the 24th century being sexually active well into one's centenarian years was far from uncommon but he felt no inclination to embarrass himself with what he saw in others as desperation, a denial of the simple biological reality of age.
However he was determined to enter this distasteful business on his own terms, to show from the first point of contact that he was still well able to take the initiative and have others responding to him taking the direction. He had hardly spent his career as a passive observer awaiting orders and saw no reason to begin now.
"My apologies, what was your name again, Luietenant?"
"Jefferies sir" she smiled gently, as though some assumption she had made about him had just been confirmed. "Christine Jefferies"
"Let me offer you a little advice Miss Jefferies, from an old man who has spent his life learning from his mistakes." He paused a moment, watched as she politely waited, humoured him, "If you want to move forward in Starfleet, to make a difference, don't just play the game. An officer, a captain, makes his own destiny, her own destiny. You can be promoted for following orders to the letter, find yourself manoeuvred wherever you are wanted and retire at a respectable rank, but you will never have mattered, never have defined why you are here on your own terms. The best officers act according to their conscience first, orders second and Starfleet needs that now more than ever. I'm not sure exactly why I've been summoned here and frankly I'm beginning to suspect that someone made that decision based more on public perception than any quality I may possess. If so I fully intend to leave this starbase this evening, make full use of my retired status and return to productively tending my garden rather than submit myself to a shambolic farce. I cannot make that assessment sat in my quarters, nor do I intend to wait patiently until someone decides I am needed on their terms to dance like a puppet on a string."
A pause, she was clearly gathering herself and considering a tactful reply. He allowed one eyebrow to raise slightly to indicate clearly his patience was not infinite. Clearly she came to a decision.
"Admiral Styles said you may feel that way sir, that you wouldn't take kindly to unnecessary delay, or to feeling out of control"
"Well I suggest that this admiral of yours and I ought to discuss the matter personally, don't you? If nothing else it will save you the tedium of dealing with an irritable, impatient old man's demands."
She laughed just a little, the tension draining out of the air exactly as he had intended "Very well sir, the Admiral is giving a briefing to the station staff as we speak, I can show you to her office directly. I should warn you though, she can be a little, frosty when she feels challenged"
"I promise to be the prefect gentleman, after you Miss Jefferies"
3)
The attack on Bells world was in many ways paradoxical. Theoretically unsanctioned, many historians place the blame squarely on the shoulders of a young upstart captain and his federal officer, by turns over eager, possibly sociopathic and thoroughly lacking in an y moral perspective in how they interpreted their mandate. There are, of course, always other ways of looking at things.
The world itself had never been a major player in the Federation's political or military set up. Colonised approximately a century earlier she had wavered on the fringe of separation from the Federation proper for some time. The colonists had found themselves from the get go in a volume far from any strategic or economic assets, away from spacelanes and generally alone in their particular corner of the galactic backyard. This had led, if not to outright neglect, to a distancing between them and their nearest federation neighbours. Naturally such a posting had attracted, as such colonies often do, those with a certain isolationist frame of mind, a tendency towards self sufficiency not generally seen in the citizens of major worlds.
Thus as the decades had passed the small colony, whilst never thriving, had steadily developed on her own terms, building on the infrastructure provided by the initial support teams and trading with anyone who was willing to do so without endeavouring to build any firm relationships, formal or otherwise, with any of her neighbours. They managed to be on good terms with everyone in local space, including the regular Klingon patrol ships which periodically crossed the border either unnoticed or unremarked on, without supporting or siding with any of them. Disputes, whilst rare, had no place on the neutral territory they provided and passing enemies occasionally found themselves face to face in the one place they all considered friendly territory.
By the time she became notable in the history books, the colony numbered a civilian population in the low millions, a small orbital dockyards for trading vessels and the sort of ground based planetary defences required to deter the sort of piracy one might reasonably expect in the relative wilderness of deep space. Even the coming of the Dominion left them largely unnoticed in their placid isolation.
Things began to change for the citizens of our small world when the borders of the Klingon neutral zone shifted in the decades following the Dominion War. The long standing mutual edge extended as both sides sought reasonably to extend their spheres of influence peacefully with an enthusiasm their pre war counterparts could not have risked. Where suspicion had been the order of the day the two powers now supported each other in an exaggerated way, the federation eager to maintain the friendship between the two, the Klingons eager to show the honourable intent they had boasted of in wartime. The theoretical parting of ways between the edges of the two powers shifted to incorporate new systems as they rolled their territories out almost in synchrony, each vying to show how pleased they were to demonstrate good faith, to avoid any sense that they might, just possibly, be looking to do so at the other's expense, or even worse to outflank the other's holdings.
Of course such a situation soured rapidly as the sheer material value of systems along the extending border led to disputes. The "new" federation, suitably militarized to the full extent of their technological capabilities in a way no one could have seriously imagined pre war, began preparations for potential conflict, reinforcing their holdings, building increasingly well armed trading stations, altering patrol routes to swap their more powerful ships into rapid deployment zones and generally rattling their now quite imposing sabre whilst maintaining a superficial pretence of amiability. The Klingons were no fools, despite the reputation they held in some corners of the galaxy, and responded the only way they realistically might be expected to - with outrage. Certain historians have even pointed to the highly visible nature of the federations military build up, the rapidity of their expansion in the sphere of influence and suggest that such a response was exactly the intent, although if that were the case then no one document has ever clearly supported such a policy.
In either case it was against this backdrop that the long ignored colonists of Bell's world, unused to being federation citizens in anything other than name, found themselves being told it was time to do their duty. Their orbital station was to act as a way point for patrolling vessels and home port/repair station for a small squadron, their planetary defences to be upgraded and act as guarding stations for munitions dumps and industrial grade replicators intended to support local fleet assets.
Having spent so long in virtual isolation it is easy in retrospect to see that such an invasion (if such a word isn't too much of a stretch) would be met with resentment, but in another day, another age, such issues as initially arose might well have been dealt with diplomatically. However the war had left it's marks on the federation and, crucially, the agents tasked with it's defence.
The pre war fleet had been composed in large part by scientists, diplomats and warriors taught and inclined to avoid conflict, to value the choices made by other cultures, to celebrate the diversity presented not only by the galaxy at large but by their own citizenry. Time and attrition had taken it's toll, however, leaving the collective command of Starfleet in the hands of many whose fledgling careers had been spent fighting tooth and nail against a bitter xenophobic opponent. They had learnt all too well the lessons of survival and patriotic duty their predecessors had eschewed in favour of balancing one's own needs against those of the greater whole. Starfleet had become the true military many had longed for, fully intent on deterring aggression and enforcing federation policy at home and abroard.
Armed with a fleet which by it's very nature had been designed to focus the federations massive scientific capabilities to destructive ends they began a campaign of consolidation, developing increasingly capable vessels at the expense of scientific or research duties. They mass manufactured patrol ships to monitor their borders, hundreds of small but highly capable strike craft with little to no value outside that remit.
Faced with the overwhelming assumption of their cooperation the local governance if the colony had called for a referendum which, given the scale of the populace and the technological ease of such things, was conducted from campaign to vote within a matter of weeks. The nearest true starbase sent a representative to argue the federation's case but didn't expect much resistance. The whole exercise was to be a formality to rubber stamp authority they hadn't foreseen being questioned. In a sense they got it right, it was just a formality. Almost to a head the population voted against militarisation of the colony beyond that required to ensure their isolation was respected. Likewise they vetoed practical support for any mobilisation. They had prospered on their own terms thus far and saw no reason to disrupt their situation. The federation representative, given a broad remit of theoretical powers, frothed at the mouth and demanded the result be disavowed. He was kindly offered a shuttle to help him rendezvous with his returning transport that little sooner.
Where the federation council of yesteryear would have likely have respected such a decision whilst endeavouring to improve relations the current administration saw fit to see this as a provocation. They had in fact already increasingly emphasised the duty of member worlds to provide resources to the cause and had taken limited action against fringe elements seemingly wavering in their loyalty, garrisoning minor worlds, increasing patrols in low support volumes and generally stretching their fleet for purposes they had never done so before. The sight of a Starfleet vessel entering orbit for many became less a reassurance and more an act of intimidation. Of enforcement.
